


Ghosts in the Machine

by HobbitSpaceCase



Series: HTP minifills [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Brock Rumlow is a bag of dicks, Brock is happy to oblige, Drabble, HYDRA Trash Party adjacent, M/M, Steve doesn't talk about his feelings, Steve just wants to be ruined, i don't really know how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 23:52:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4369148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HobbitSpaceCase/pseuds/HobbitSpaceCase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve liked Brock Rumlow.  He shouldn't, but he did.</p><p>The first part in a series of unrelated minifics I've decided to post on ao3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghosts in the Machine

**Author's Note:**

> I was trying to get into Steve's head for another fic, and this happened. It's not really a fill to any particular HTP prompt, though I did drop it off over on the meme on one of my own prompts.
> 
> All the minifills/ficlets in this series will be unrelated and probably unbetaed.

Steve liked Brock Rumlow.  
  
The older man was uncomplicated, straightforward in a way that few people in this new century could manage. He didn’t try to set Steve up on endless dates like Natasha ( _“Come on pal. This one’ll like you for sure, I swear!”_ ). He didn’t play mind games with Steve till he couldn’t tell what was a test and what was real, as Fury had a habit of doing ( _“Is this a test?”_ ).  
  
There were no ghosts in the sharp edge to his banter with Steve or way he lead his team ( _Dum-Dum’s laugh had never been quiet, the others’ smiles had always been warmer and sadder than Rumlow could manage when they teased_ ).  
  
He had Steve’s back on ops, and sometimes he’d invite Steve out to join the guys for a beer when they got home, but he never pushed for more than that, never tried to get Steve to open up about anything he didn’t want to say. He treated Steve like a fellow soldier. Occasionally mocked his star-spangled uniform. Didn’t look at him like he expected Steve to cry when they lost men to gunfire and bad information. It was refreshing.  
  
So, Steve liked Brock Rumlow.  
  
None of that explained why Steve was currently tied to his headboard with Rumlow fucking his face and calling him babydoll.  
  
It didn’t really explain why he was letting Rumlow call him a dirty fucking cockslut and, “Christ Rogers you’re good at this, tell the truth – is that why the Commandos were so eager to follow you back in the day? You always bend over this easy for a man in uniform, or are you just a natural at it and I’m just special? Bet you’d look fuckin’ gorgeous getting’ _ruined_ by a bunch ‘a dirty fuckin’ soldiers.”  
  
It was filthy and degrading and frankly a bit ridiculous, the things that fell outta Rumlow’s mouth.  
  
And yeah, Steve kinda liked that too.  
  
When Rumlow finished on Steve's face and sat back to survey his handiwork with nothing more than a murmured, “Christ, that’s nasty,” Steve shoved down the wish for something more that threatened to well up. Life didn’t care for greed from people like him.  
  
It was almost expected when Rumlow swung off of Steve, leaving him still hard and dripping against his stomach and completely untouched.  
  
“That was fun,” Rumlow said over the sound of his zipper being drawn up.  
  
“We should do it again sometime,” he added, to the sound of the bedroom door opening.  
  
Steve waited until he heard the front door open and close before replying, spilling a soft, “yeah, I’d like that,” into the empty air. He gave it until his cock had fully softened before he snapped the rope around his wrists and turned on his side to curl into himself.  
  
He was glad Rumlow had left before he started crying ( _“What’re you crying for, you stupid goddamn punk? Y’know this is all your fucking fault, always starting shit cause you can’t just leave well enough alone.”_ ).  
  
He’d have to clean himself off eventually and hit the gym. There was another op tomorrow and he had to be prepared. Just cause he knew how to lose a man and keep going didn’t mean he wanted to.  
  
And maybe now, if things went well, there’d be something else to look forward to afterwards.


End file.
